


Praeteritum Praesens

by EAU1636



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016), Endeavour (TV)
Genre: ADHD detectives, Alcohol obviously because Morse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Dirk Gently Being Dirk Gently, Endeavour Morse has the self-awareness of a potato, Gen, Human Disaster Detectives, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAU1636/pseuds/EAU1636
Summary: Morse’s face radiated disbelief.  There was no way in hell this man was a copper.  “You’re a police detective?”  He asked incredulously.“Oh no, nothing as grim as that,” said the man, with a laugh.  “I’m a holistic detective. I’m not concerned with the sort of obvious, tawdry clues the police spend so much time blathering on about. I look at the bigger picture, the interconnectedness of all things.  If I have a hunch, however unlikely, I follow it.  It’s like each case is a puzzle and I can see how the pieces fit together when no one else can.”What a load of bull, thought Morse, as though anyone could solve cases that way. Ridiculous.  Definitely a mental case.  The last thing he needed.
Relationships: Dirk Gently & Endeavour Morse
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	Praeteritum Praesens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AstridContraMundum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstridContraMundum/gifts), [maih_em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maih_em/gifts), [human_dreamer_etcetera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/human_dreamer_etcetera/gifts).



> This is my first Dirk fic and I'm having so much fun writing him. 
> 
> I'm going to play pretty fast and loose with canon here. This takes place just before Ride during series 3 of Endeavour and just before the first season of Dirk Gently. I realize that Ride probably took place during Spring of 67, but I wanted to set this in June so I'm just pretending Ride took place in late June.
> 
> Thanks to AstridContraMundum, wherehefoundtheporcupine and visionsofmangos for the comments conversation that inspired this fic!

June 16th, 2016

The letter had arrived last week. It was addressed to Dirk Gently, Holistic Detective. It read as follows:

Mr. Gently,

I require your services as a detective. Meet me in the woods surrounding Lake Silence, near Oxford, on June 17th at 11:30 p.m. Bring only the clothes on your back, no phone, watch or wallet. Come alone. Enclosed you will find a map with the exact meeting location, a plane ticket and sufficient funds for the journey. A life depends on you. Don’t be late.

Sincerely,

F.C.

Most men might have certain reservations about a summons such as this. How, for example, had this client known Dirk’s address? How had he known Dirk had recently decided to take up detective work? Why was the letter both alarmingly vague and oddly specific? How had this mystery client even known of Dirk Gently’s existence? 

Yes, it’s fair to say that most men would have disregarded this letter, seeing it as some sort of joke, perhaps even a nefarious trap. Dirk Gently was not most men. He looked up from re-reading the letter with a naive glee radiating from his face. He bounded up from his seat with the energy of a rubber ball, tucked the letter in his back pocket, and headed out the door. His first real case as a real detective. It was all happening!

June 17th, 2016 

11:50 p.m.

Dirk made his way through the woods, swatting away an occasional branch or mosquito here and there as he stumbled along. He hadn’t brought a torch and the woods were pitch-black at this time of night. It must be admitted that Dirk was not particularly adept at deciphering maps, he’d only taken a cursory glance at it earlier, and now he could hardly make out his own hand in the darkness, let alone consult the map. He wasn’t worried, however, he had a habit of ending up where he was supposed to be, despite any wrong turns he inevitably made along the way. 

Finally, he approached a clearing. A shadowy figure waited at the far end, looking around in an impatient manner and mumbling something Dirk couldn’t make out. It was probable that the mumblings included some choice swear words, and that those words were directed at Dirk, who was not always, strictly speaking, punctual. 

“Hello!” Dirk shouted excitedly, waving his hand frantically as he came nearer.

The other figure was hard to make out in the darkness. It looked around furtively and then walked hurriedly toward Dirk. As he neared, Dirk could see that his client was a man of small build, dressed in a hooded cloak that almost completely hid his face. It was hard to tell his age exactly, but Dirk guessed him to be somewhere in his 70’s.

“We haven’t much time, you’re late,” the older man whispered hoarsely. “You followed my instructions? You’ve nothing with you?”

“Just the map! Maybe we can start with you telling me-”

“Good,” interrupted the hooded man, “You’ll want to keep that map with you for your return trip.”

“My return trip from where?” asked Dirk, with the optimistic curiosity of someone asking what is behind door number one on a game show.

“I need you to right a terrible wrong. To save a life that should not have been taken. I’ve tried myself, many times, but the past doesn’t like being forcefully re-written by those that have already lived it. I mustn’t say too much. The hand that rewrites this tragedy must be yours, not mine. You are an instrument for fate, Dirk Gently--”

“Oh I’m really not,” Dirk shook his head, confusedly, “I’m just a detective, now. I mean I don’t think I can--”

“You’ll need this,” the other man handed Dirk an envelope, “As soon as it’s done, you must return to this spot at midnight to travel back. ”

“But, I’m not... I mean, I don’t..” Dirk stammered, as the older man grabbed hold of his arm and ushered him forward.

They made their way to the center of the clearing. Dirk could just make out a ring of mushrooms on the ground, their caps glowing eerily white in the sliver of moonlight peeking through the trees. A fairy ring.

His client held his hand out to show Dirk that he wanted him to stand in the ring.

Still unsure of what exactly was happening, Dirk stepped in and looked around expectantly.

The moon seemed to shine brighter for a moment, and then the light grew, a circle of dazzling white that eclipsed the moon, that grew larger and larger until it swallowed the darkness entirely. Dirk closed his eyes against the brightness. 

“You must stop Thor!” he thought he heard his mysterious client shout. “Save her!”

And then Dirk felt a chasm open up within him, felt himself pulled through the hole within himself, telescoping through himself and through time and space, while still rooted to the spot where he stood, his feet never leaving the ground.

  
  
  


June 18th, 1967

12:00 am

Cautiously, Dirk opened first one eye and then the other. He looked left, then right, looked behind him, and then up at the sky. Well that was _something_. His client seemed to have disappeared. Dirk stood in the fairy circle, surrounded by the dark woods, the night once again lit by only a sliver of moon. Something felt different somehow, but he couldn’t pinpoint what or why. He thought that perhaps the trees were different, not quite as tall, but surely that must be his imagination. He moved his thumb over the envelope in his hand, feeling its reassuring smoothness. 

Perhaps this case was a bit different from what he’d imagined, but it was still a case, still _his_ case. He shook himself out and tried to decide what to do next. He should probably go somewhere? But where exactly? Well, no use in over-thinking things. He would trust his instincts as a detective and no doubt they would lead him where he was meant to go. He would walk until he came to whatever it was he was supposed to find. All he had to do was choose which direction to go. 

Yes, he would set forth on his quest and solve this case! With this cheering thought in mind, Dirk took a few confident steps forward into the woods. And then he tripped and fell, down, down, into a pit of blackness. 

* * *

Endeavour Morse sat on a log at the water’s edge, the flames from the small bonfire casting an eerie light over the tangle of roots at his feet. There was an unseasonable chill in the air and he shivered slightly as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, savoring the familiar warmth of the whisky on his tongue. 

He spent little time indoors lately, preferring the openness outside, a world without walls. If only leaving behind the past were as easy as walking through a door. He had his life back, what was left of it, he could do what he wanted with it. But what was it that he wanted to do? He felt adrift, as though he were floating along a stream with no idea what lay ahead of him and nothing to grab hold of. He took another drink. At least here he had the solace of solitude, the blessed silence of the empty woods.

“Help! ” Suddenly a yell broke through the placid quiet of the night. “Stuck in a hole! Can anyone hear me? Heeeeeeeelp!”

Morse’s brow creased with annoyance and confusion. Then he sighed. Some drunk must have been wandering through the woods and fallen into the old well. So much for solitude and silence.

He set his glass down and ran a hand across his face, trying to decide what to do. He had no choice but to try to get whoever it might be out. He grabbed a torch and a length of rope from the side of the porch and made his way through the woods.

The cries for help continued steadily as he approached the opening of the well. “I’m coming!” He shouted with some irritation as he grew closer.

He reached the spot and shone his torch light down the well. He saw a man, close to his own age, dressed in an unusual combination of bright yellow leather jacket, dress shirt and tie. There was dirt smeared on his face and clothes. The man in the well put up a hand and gave a cheerful wave. “Hello!”

Definitely drunk, Morse decided. Nobody who was sober would be in such good spirits while stuck in a well.

“I’m going to tie this rope around a tree and then throw it down to you,” he shouted down. “You’ll have to climb up. Can you do that?”

“I think so,” the man said with a nod. “I’m a bit worse for wear but all my parts still seem to be in working order.” He looked himself over as if checking to make sure his limbs were all still attached.

Morse tied the rope around a nearby tree trunk and then returned to the well. He knotted the end of the rope. 

“Ok, I’m going to throw the rope down to you now. It will hold. Just do your best to climb up.”

He threw the rope down. The man grabbed on and began to slowly pull himself up while pressing his feet against the side of the well. As he neared the top, Morse reached out to grab his arm and pull him up and over the side. 

Finally free, the man gave a pleased sigh and then dusted himself off. He put out his hand to shake Morse’s. 

“Thank you very much. Not exactly what I was planning on, though I suppose if I ended up there I was supposed to. I thought perhaps it was a clue I was meant to find down there but now I’m thinking it was just that I was supposed to meet you. Are you a clue, an accomplice or an assistant I wonder?

Drunk or crazy or both, thought Morse. Just his luck.

“I can assure you I’m none of those. Just heard you yelling and thought I’d better see what I could do.”

“Well, you certainly have been of assistance. May I ask, have you noticed an acceleration of strangeness in your life as of late?”

Morse’s eyebrows raised and he let out a small, bitter laugh. “No more than usual, all things considered” he said.

Morse looked the other man over now that he could see him better. Despite the dirt and rather flamboyant get up, he looked too well cared for to have been living rough. He was good looking, in a slightly disheveled way. Even when just fished out of a hole in the middle of the night, he had an unbridled exuberance about him that put Morse in mind of a small boy or puppy. Maybe a party goer that had gotten lost on the way home after a few too many? There was something about the man that Morse couldn’t quite seem to figure out, something out of place about him. 

“What was it you were doing wandering alone in the woods at this time of night?” Morse asked, with more than a hint of reproof in his voice.

“Oh I wasn’t alone,” the man replied quickly, “I was meeting a client.”

A prostitute? Morse wondered. He didn’t seem the type, there was an almost childlike innocence about the man. And most of those employed in the oldest profession didn’t talk about their assignations so openly.

“What kind of client?” Morse asked, looking around. “Where are they now?”

“How silly of me,” said the other man, “I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Dirk Gently, I’m a detective and I’m working on a very important case.”

Morse’s face radiated disbelief. There was no way in hell this man was a copper. “You’re a police detective?” He asked incredulously.

“Oh no, nothing as grim as that,” said the man, with a laugh. “I’m a _holistic_ detective. I’m not concerned with the sort of obvious, tawdry clues the police spend so much time blathering on about. I look at the bigger picture, the interconnectedness of all things. If I have a hunch, however unlikely, I follow it. It’s like each case is a puzzle and I can see how the pieces fit together when no one else can.”

What a load of bull, thought Morse, as though anyone could solve cases that way. Ridiculous. Definitely a mental case. The last thing he needed.

“And what is it you’re detecting out here in the woods?” Morse asked with condescension.

“I’m not sure yet,” replied the man. “I suppose I’m looking for something? Though I’m not sure what. But whatever it is I’m sure I’ll stumble upon it.”

“It seems to me all you’ve stumbled into is a well,” mumbled Morse, under his breath.

“Exactly!” The man said, with giddy enthusiasm. “Which means I was meant to fall into that well, which means we were meant to meet! By the way, what were _you_ doing wandering out alone in the woods at this time of night?” The man asked Morse, his eyebrow lowered conspiratorially. 

“I wasn’t wandering in the woods,” Morse replied with frosty hostility. “ I’m staying just over there. I heard you yelling and thought I’d better come get you out. And I have, so since you’re alright, I’ll be getting back now.”

He gave a quick nod of his head and turned to head back to the lake house.

The other man followed quickly behind him.

“I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but do you think I might trouble you for a glass of water? I find that shouting from the depths of an empty well leaves one rather thirsty.”

Everything in Morse wanted to say no. But how could he refuse? What harm could it do, apart from further ruining his evening? The man was polite enough and clearly not a threat, even if he was mad as a hatter.

“Of course, follow me,” Morse replied, resigning himself to the insane rambling that he felt certain awaited him while in the company of this odd man.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” said the man, springing up to stand close beside Morse with the frenetic zeal of a jack-in-the-box. 

“Morse,” he replied curtly.

“Nice to meet you, Morse,” said the man, emphasizing his name as though he were sizing it up in his mind. “Quite a good name for an assistant, a flavor of intrigue about a name like that.”

Morse only rolled his eyes and trudged silently back toward the lake house, with Dirk Gently trailing alongside him, as though connected by an invisible thread.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be no Norse Gods in this story, this Thor will be of a different sort all together.
> 
> I've already got this one all plotted out, I hope to post new chapters pretty regularly.


End file.
